


Somnophilia

by Mellorine



Series: Gestalt [3]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Somnophilia, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 05:38:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3924898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellorine/pseuds/Mellorine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prowl can't sleep, but Scavenger sure can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somnophilia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SiderealV](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiderealV/gifts).



Prowl rolled onto his side, then rolled back onto his front. His tac-net was running full-bore, he couldn’t stop thinking about the meeting he’d had yesterday and the meeting he was going to have today, and one of his doorwing hinges was giving him trouble.  
  
And he was running a charge. A small charge at first, but the minute he’d noticed it, it had gotten worse and worse until he was all but grinding his panel against the berth in frustration.  
  
A snuffling snort drew his attention to the mech sharing his berth. He could swallow his pride, just this once, and wake up Scavenger. The needy thing would most likely appreciate it, no matter how worn out he’d been when he’d finally dropped into recharge.  
  
“Scavenger. Wake up.” Prowl’s whisper sounded too loud in the silence of the room, but the Constructicon didn’t stir, his presence remaining a dim, sleepy fog in the sparkbond. Reaching out, Prowl shook him. “Wake up, damn it.”  
  
Scavenger shifted slightly, a small whine escaping his vocalizer. Prowl’s spike strained against his panel. If Scavenger didn’t wake up in the next breem, Prowl was going to…he wasn’t sure what he was going to do. Jerk off furiously in the wash-racks? His lip curled at the idea. It was his damn habsuite. He shouldn’t be the one scuttling off in secret. The Constructicon shifted again, legs parting, revealing his uncovered array, lubricant dripping slowly to the berth, and Prowl’s interface pinged insistently.  
  
He moved before his processor had time to think the action through, climbing on top of Scavenger. The sleeping mech was hot under his servos, still radiating heat from earlier. Prowl’s fans clicked on.  
  
“Scavenger.” He raised his voice, vocalizer crackling with static. Scavenger wouldn’t mind. If anything, he’d probably twist into some form of genuine sparkfelt affection on Prowl’s part.  
  
He reached down and brushed a servo against the petals of Scavenger’s valve. Wet and sticky with lubricant, they fluttered softly against his fingers. The bond still lay mild and dormant on Scavenger’s side.  
  
Moments passed, the thrum of his fans loud in his helm, and Prowl finally moved, his cord pressurizing free of its housing. Scavenger’s port was hot and tight, and Prowl slid deep inside him, breath hitching as the Constructicon’s calipers flexed around his length.  
  
Hilting himself, he rested for a moment, savoring the feel of Scavenger’s plush mesh around him, and the sparkbond, for once not a roiling thing of need and want. Calm, almost. Scavenger moaned quietly and Prowl’s optics snapped up to stare at him, wary, but the Constructicon just muttered something under his breath, not moving. Prowl double-checked the bond. Still quiet. Still asleep.  
  
He moved quickly, purposefully, heat coiling tight in his belly until it spilled, thick and hot, into Scavenger. Prowl continued to thrust into him as he came down from his overload, slowing his pace until he stopped, his fans deafeningly loud in the silence of the room.  
  
Tired, _finally_ , Prowl withdrew, transfluid and lubricant trailing out onto the berth after him. He slid half-off Scavenger, wincing as their plating stuck together. In a perfect world, the Constructicon would wake up sated and docile. More likely, though, the needy, insatiable thing would just want more. Prowl sighed in annoyance, the sigh turning into a yawn as his optics shuttered.  
  
Another problem to be dealt with later.


End file.
